


Before the Storm

by fallingwinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Sexism, Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22555402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingwinchester/pseuds/fallingwinchester
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are on the road hunting anything and everything supernatural. After reading an article about young girls being found desecrated on the steps of their childhood homes, Sam and Dean head to Indianapolis to stop the most recent victim from getting killed. Instead of finding her, the find another hunter-and they sure as hell aren't expecting that curve ball.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This work is entirely fiction. I don't own Supernatural, or the characters, and their personalities in this are a mix of the show's, and my imagination. Please enjoy, and feel free to leave a comment to help me improve (:

“Are you gonna come back and visit me?”

Sam watched from the car as Dean smiled down at the girl, his face smeared with grime and dried blood. “I dunno, baby. I’ll definitely try, but you know how it can be.”

Sam rolled his eyes, looking back down at the map just before Dean planted a kiss on the poor girl and got into the car. Sam waited until Dean shut the car door before speaking.

“You know,” Sam started, Dean glancing at him before averting his gaze back to his mirror. “It’s cruel to make someone believe you’re coming back for them when that truly isn’t your intention.” Dean laughed quietly and shook his head. “Sammy, what’s the point of a road trip if you can’t have fun here and there?”

Sam huffed, glaring down at his map. “You know damn well this isn’t a road trip, Dean. You can’t just go around and break a girl's heart like you don’t have a conscience.”

Dean frowned, keeping his eyes on the mirror but letting that thought mull over in his head. He’s right, Dean thought. As much as he hated to admit it, Sam wasn’t an idiot.

“Look, do you have anything? I’m trying to get the hell outta dodge, and fast.” He mumbled, Sam scoffing and folding the map. “You’re starting to sound like Bobby.” Dean frowned harder, turning the engine over and started to drive off, avoiding glancing in the rear-view mirror at the face of the girl they’d just saved from a nasty poltergeist.

It was quiet for a few minutes, the only sound being the soft hum of the engine and Sam flipping through John’s journal. “About the job.” He started, glancing back down at the newspaper neatly folded between the two of them. “Five girls have gone missing from Indianapolis in the last three years. All but one were found desecrated in front of their childhood homes.”

Dean whistled, checking his mirrors before flipping his turn signal on. “Sounds like a vengeful spirit,” he hummed, Sam huffing quietly. “Yeah, you’re telling me. This girl that’s still missing, uh,” he paused, picking up the newspaper and reading a few lines.

“Marie-Rose Warrens,” He finished, glancing back at the road. “She was last seen a week ago leaving her Great Aunt’s funeral.”

“Yeah, and?” Dean said, driving past the _Michigan Welcomes You!_ sign, an uneasy feeling filling his gut. Sam chuckled, glancing at the side of Dean’s face. “Someone walking down the street said it seemed that she ‘vanished into thin air’,” Sam said, Dean raising his eyebrows.

Quite unusual, that is, Dean thought. “Usually spirits don’t want people witnessing their captures, what’s so special about this girl?” He wondered aloud, Sam shrugging.

*

“Ma’am, we know this is hard for you, we’re just trying to help. Do you remember your daughter acting...strange, in anyway, before she left?”

The woman sniffled, grabbing a tissue from the table and blowing her nose, Dean grimacing.

She shook her head, looking up at the brothers with a soft sob. “No, Marie was...perfect, I just can’t believe this has happened,” she finished with a sob, Sam reaching forward and placing his hand softly on her shoulder.

“We’re going to find your daughter, Mrs. Warrens,” he said, Dean holding back a scoff as they stood from the couch, and left the house with about as much information as they started with. Dean slid into the car, Sam following shortly after. “Now what the hell are we going to do, Sammy?” Dean asked, starting the car.

“Would you be the slightest bit compassionate, Dean?” Sam asked, Dean rolling his eyes. “That woman just lost her daughter, and she could show up at her doorstep absolutely _destroyed_ if we don’t find her soon,” he exclaimed, a soft sigh leaving Dean’s lips.

He knew Sam was right, as much as he hated to admit it. The issue with this case is that they had _no_ leads whatsoever. Dean didn’t even know where the hell to start. He grumbled, turning left towards their motel when he saw something.

A woman in a long, red dress was standing at the crossroads, staring directly at the car. Dean slammed on the breaks, socking Sam in the chest before he could squawk in offense. 

The woman turned her head to the road to the right before turning back to Dean, winking, then disappearing. He took a deep breath, flipped his turn signal to the right, and started driving. He looked for a sign as he drove towards the end of the road.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked, Dean shushing him as he continued to drive, seeing a child to his left in a red raincoat. He whipped the car to the left, Sam nearly toppling over into his lap. “I don’t understand,” he mumbled, turning right when seeing a red rose bush down the road.

Sam scoffed, mumbling about how Dean was losing his mind. Finally, Dean stopped the car at a dead end, a grunt leaving his lips as he put the car in park and stepped out. He looked around for a few minutes, his hands in his pockets.

“Are you okay?” Dean turned towards Sam, nodding his head. “Yeah, just look around and tell me if you see anything red.” Dean finished, walking towards the trunk to arm himself when Sam spoke.

“Uh, does that count?” He asked, Dean looking up just as he loaded the final silver bullet into the barrel of his pistol. He huffed, nodding his head. “Yeah, that definitely counts.”

Just above an abandoned shack at the end of the road to their left, a pair of blood red sneakers were dangling from a telephone line, tied together by the shoelaces. “What did the paper say about what Marie was last wearing?” Dean asked, Sam scoffing and turning back to him.

“An old, brown leather jacket of her dad’s, a gray t-shirt, blue jeans, and red Converse.”

*

Maybe Dean shouldn’t have jumped the gun, maybe he should have just waited until nightfall to storm into the abandoned shack, but what fun would that be?

“Sam? Did you find anything yet?” He shouted, slamming the butt of his dagger into the creature in front of him's face, watching with a smirk as it staggered backwards. “Not exactly, I’m a bit tied up in here,” he replied, Dean hearing the commotion as Sam gave whatever the hell that thing was a run for its money.

The creature Dean was dealing with started to run towards him, but all he had to do was step out of the way and jam the knife directly into its spinal cord, dragging the blade upwards as it whined and began to smoke from the wound. When he pulled the knife away, the creature collapsed, turning to dust the moment it hit the floor.

Dean wiped the black blood from his knife onto his jeans before turning and running into the kitchen, Sam dodging the scratches it continued to swipe at him with. One swing finally caught Sam’s arm, a groan leaving his lips as the wound bubbled, almost like his skin was boiling at the contact.

Finally, Dean grabbed the creature by the sparse hair on its head and jammed his knife into its back, doing the same thing he he had done just moments before. The moment it hit the ground, Dean rushed towards Sam, who nearly crumpled to the ground before Dean caught him.

“Hey, hey. You alright, Sam?” He asked, looking at the wound. His skin was bubbling, steam seeping from the open wound. “Obviously not, dumbass.” He grunted out, grabbing his arm quickly before pulling his hand back, a strangled cry leaving his lips. The skin of his hand was bubbling too, not nearly as bad as the wound on his arm.

Dean winced, standing and grabbing a half-broken glass from the table and filling it with water from the sink. He walked back over to Sam, and poured it lightly over the wounds. Sam cried out, looking at Dean in bewilderment.

“Ash Spawn,” Dean mumbled, pouring more water onto his brother’s bicep and watching as the wound seemed to close up the moment it touched his skin. “One scratch from these guys, and your blood will completely boil in minutes. Water cools the wound and stops the process.” He finished, Sam’s breathing evening out.

Before Sam could ask, Dean answered the unspoken question. “Dad and I dealt with them a few times in the past. Not very smart, they only guard the spirit doing the actual crimes.”

Just as Dean finished his sentence, a shrill scream sounded from below them, causing them both to jump up. “Dean, go.” Sam said quietly, holding his arm as he gestured towards the basement door. “I still have a few minutes before this heals completely, I’ll be down in a sec.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but grabbed his pistol from the back of his jeans and opened the door swiftly, wincing when it creaked.

He stepped down the stairs, avoiding any spots that could be particularly loud as he reached the bottom. Dean was startled, to say the least, the first time in a long time. The girl was fighting back, the damn creature in front of her was a sight to see. She slashed at it, her knife catching it’s hand. The creature wailed, black smoke pouring out from the wound.

“I’ll be damned,” Dean muttered, pulling the pistol up and shooting while the creature was distracted, the silver bullet piercing it’s back and causing it to collapse, the girl whipping her head towards Dean the moment he fired. She wasn’t distracted for long, and took the blade and plunged it into the creature’s heart, watching as it twitched twice before it stopped moving completely.

The girl looked up, Dean had already moved towards her. She held the blade up, like she was planning on using it. “Who the hell are you?” She asks, Dean raising his hands in surrender. “I was just trying to help,” he answered, her eyebrows furrowing. “Did it look like I needed your help?”

Dean scoffed, crossing his arms. “Then why did you scream?” The girl laughed, shaking her head. “Clearly, you’re not very good at your job—that wasn’t me. Besides, you weren’t exactly being quiet upstairs, Marie’s scream was a bonus.” She sheathed her knife, pulling her hair up into a ponytail before looking behind Dean. She pulled the gun from his hand with the skill of an expert, knocking Dean’s feet out from under him as she pointed the gun at the stairs, the back of Dean’s head hitting the ground.

“Woah woah woah! Calm down, I’m with him!” Sam exclaimed, the girl lowering the gun enough for Dean to snatch it from her hands before he stood up. “Stop waving that thing around before you kill someone,” Dean mumbled, rubbing the back of his head with his palm. A scoff left the girls lips. “Great, another sexist hunter that thinks I can’t do my job,” she mumbled quietly.

“Your job?” Sam asked, walking towards her at a slow pace, his hands still raised. “You’re not Marie?” She frowned, shaking her head. “I got here just in time to set Marie free and run into that handsome devil.” She pointed at the creature on the ground. “At first, I thought it was some vengeful spirit killing these girls, and then I got here and this Coquecigrue was just hiding in the shadows.”

The brothers looked at each other before looking back to her with their eyebrows raised, a soft sigh leaving her lips. “An ancient being that most folks assume are imaginary—they’re the symbol of absurdity,” she says, Sam frowning as she continued to speak. “It’s the first one I’ve seen in awhile, and it took me a moment to realize what it was; when it started cackling like a madman, I pieced it together. I don’t know how the hell it got to Indiana, these bad boys are usually only found in Egypt.”

“So you’re telling me, you _tracked_ this thing?” Dean asked, the girl looking at him with a straight face. “And that surprises you why?” She asked, Sam taking a step back and watching the girl's fuze shorten with every comment from Dean. “Well,” Dean said. “It’s just interesting is all.” The girl crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows and waiting for him to finish. “You know,” Dean started, realizing he was more than likely digging himself a deeper grave. “Pretty girl, hunting supernatural creatures _and_ actually killing them; it’s rare.”

Sam winced, about to apologize on Dean’s behalf but she raised her hand to stop him. “So pretty girls can’t hunt, is what you’re saying.” Dean shrugged, looking at Sam who just shook his head, basically telling him to shut the hell up before he got in trouble. “I just don’t see how you wouldn’t need help, is all.” Dean finished, Sam wincing and putting his head in his hand as the girl hummed and nodded. “Give me your best shot,” she said, Dean raising his eyebrows at her and laughing. “I don’t see how tha—“

Dean’s sentence was cut off when the girl threw a right curve to his jaw, causing him to grunt and look back at her. Her stance was impeccable, like she’d been trained her whole life to fight. He stared at her in bewilderment, her smirk growing. “What?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “Your morals telling you to not fight back?” She taunted. Sam chuckled and took another step back; he had a feeling this would be amusing.

Dean stood up straight and threw a punch, the girl dodging it quickly before stepping forward and catching his other hand, twisting it behind his back and knocking his legs out from under him. He hit the floor hard, she didn’t waste time before she straddled his back and pinned him. Both of his wrists were tied before he could even squirm, causing him to look up at Sam with wide eyes, wondering why he wasn’t doing anything, and also wondering where the hell she had gotten the rope. “Who _are_ you?” Sam asked, the girl looking up at him with a wicked smile, her red curls damp with sweat dangling in her face.

“Diana Watts, at your service.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just to inform you, I got the Ash Spawn thing from Skyrim because I couldn't think of anything else, so yeah.


End file.
